


Motion Detection

by misura



Category: This Means War (2012)
Genre: Moving In Together, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tuck moves in with FDR. Predictable things happen. (Also: pancakes. Because who doesn't like pancakes?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motion Detection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chosenfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chosenfire/gifts).



> in your letter, you mentioned you'd quite like some threesome fic in this fandom, which sounded like an excellent idea for a treat. :)

"I think maybe we should move in together," Lauren said.

 _I think maybe I should seriously FTFO right about now,_ FDR thought. It didn't happen though, so he figured maybe moving in together wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Rather convenient, actually; it'd be saving on all those 'your place or mine' type of conversations they kept having. Less time spent talking meant more time for ... things that were more fun than talking.

"Uh," he said. He'd meant to say something more enthusiastic, like _absolutely!_ , or _great idea!_ but, well, they were both still naked and in bed, so ...

"Hm," she said, which wasn't exactly high quality conversation or anything either - not that FDR was particularly bothered by that just now.

Not as bothered as he was by someone ringing the doorbell, anyway.

 

"What, no tranq gun this time?" FDR said, which was probably a bit unkind, even if it had been three inches - three-and-a-half, tops, and Tuck had only ever been second-best on the range.

"Why, did I need one?" Tuck asked. He had a lot of bags with him.

_Too many. Something's wrong._

"Tuck!" Tousled hair and a very loose sweat-shirt. FDR saw Tuck take it all in, saw a moment of honest appreciation come and get covered up quickly.

Supposedly, this was where one or both of them would get jealous - Tuck, for not having gotten the girl; FDR, for having 'his' girl getting ogled by his best friend.

Tuck grimaced and said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"That's okay." FDR made eye contact and held it. Lauren had said he had eyes she felt that made her feel she could melt into them. He wondered if Tuck agreed. _Probably not._ "We were just going to make some breakfast. Pancakes."

"You like pancakes, Tuck?" Lauren asked.

"Who doesn't like pancakes?"

 _Crazy people,_ FDR thought, and reached out to help Tuck with his bags. _Crazy people._

 

Pancakes were not as good as sex. The jury was still out on whether or not they might be _better_ than sex sometimes, but FDR was definitely positive that they weren't anywhere near the same thing.

"Lot of bags," he said. "We going somewhere?" _You planned on going somewhere?_ He'd checked his cell phone two minutes ago; there'd been nothing about a new mission. _By yourself?_ He didn't think either of them had gone on any solo mission for five years.

They made a good team, good partners. _The best._

"Not really, no." Tuck looked uncomfortable.

 _Oh, God. He's leaving me._ FDR considered, then decided to tack a _behind_ at the end of that thought. _He's leaving me behind._ Much better. And it wasn't as if it was actually going to happen. FDR wasn't just going to lie down and let Tuck do something as stupid as that, after all.

"You need a place to stay?" Lauren asked, which was a really weird question, FDR thought.

Tuck had a perfectly good apartment, after all. _It'd have been on the news if something'd happened._

"I do, actually," Tuck said.

"What?"

Tuck coughed and eyed the remaining stack of pancakes. "Well," he said. "Since _someone_ flooded my apartment, the wiring's been a bit ... wonky. A lot wonky, actually. To the point where nothing's working properly anymore, right this moment."

"We've got a guestroom," Lauren said. "Well, FDR's got one. It's really nice."

 _It's really close to my bedroom._ Not that FDR'd ever been bothered by the idea of Tuck hearing him have sex before - or even _watching_ him have sex, for that matter. Still. _What happens in Rio._ Los Angeles wasn't Rio, though, and Lauren was no ... whatever her name had been.

"Thank you," Tuck said. "Very decent of you."

 

So some nice people were fixing the wiring in Tuck's apartment right now. (Well, the CIA was busy vetting people who might not completely botch the job and definitely weren't going to try and plant any bugs or bombs, anyway. It'd probably be another week at least before anyone actually started working, and then another two weeks before anything got done.)

_Could have been worse._

On the other hand, assassins could be shot. Government conspiracies could be dealt with. Electricians and handymen, in FDR's experience, were much trickier to handle. Very few of them were women, for one. (True, female assassins tended not to look like Scarlett, but some of them still looked pretty hot, if you liked the armed and dangerous type.)

All in all, Tuck might very well be staying in his guestroom for two months, if not more.

"That bother you?" Tuck asked, stretching out beside him. Shirtless.

_I'd have to say it does, yes. Just a bit. If not for the reasons you think._

To say that Tuck looked good would be an understatement. Brits were supposed to like those, but FDR wasn't British, so he felt it was perfectly all right for him to feel that Tuck looked smoking hot.

 _If I were a woman, and_ I _were not around, why, then I should be in love with Tuck._

Of course, this wasn't 1941. And Reynard hadn't been part of any love triangle. And Lauren hadn't slept with anyone because she thought her boyfriend-slash-husband was dead at the time.

"I'm really grateful, you know," Tuck said, and yep, that hand on his zipper felt really grateful, although not nearly as grateful as Tuck's warm, hot mouth as he -

"FDR?"

_Well. This is embarrassing._

"You having a nightmare?" Tuck peered at him worriedly. His hair looked messy and he was wearing a loose, sleeveless shirt. _The better to bring out his arms._

"Argh," FDR said, which seemed preferable to any of the alternatives.

"Should I call Lauren?"

 _Nothing to worry about, babe. Just having a sex dream about your ex-boyfriend, who also happens to be my best friend, and staying with me for a few weeks._ "No. I'm fine."

Tuck looked dubious, but he still said: "All right," and then left, so FDR figured that he'd handled the whole thing pretty well.

 

"You know, I think that if Tuck got a girlfriend, I'd be jealous," Lauren said. "That's weird, right? I mean, I never even slept with him. And, well, I already _have_ a boyfriend."

It had been about three weeks since Tuck had moved into Casa Foster. Lauren had spent the night maybe five times - and it had been 'spending the night', not 'having wild, hot sex on the kitchen counter'. (Which did have the advantage of not being next door to the guestroom, but still.)

"I know how you feel."

"Really?" Lauren arched an eyebrow at him and poked at her salad. "You have a boyfriend? Who isn't Tuck?"

 _She's not saying what it sounds like she's saying._ "No," FDR said. "I have a girlfriend. Who is sweet and awesome and who I love very, very much."

"But you guys are close, right? And I mean, _close_ close, not ... not close close."

"We're best friends," FDR said, and then, because he was apparently an idiot: "I think he's still kind of hung up on you."

 

"You said that to her?" Tuck said, pacing.

"She seemed cool with it," FDR said. _About as cool as with the idea that you might be my boyfriend._ He didn't think he was going to mention that to Tuck.

No point in giving the British guy any crazy ideas. _He might decide to do something about it._

"I like Lauren," Tuck said. "Obviously. I mean, who doesn't like Lauren? She's a lovely person."

 _Well, there was Steve._ Who was an idiot, clearly. "You still really, really like her?"

"I - " Tuck said. "Well, it's all academic now, isn't it? She chose you."

 _I choose you, Pikachu._ "She said dating you was the most fun she'd ever had."

Tuck waved a dismissive said. "Bygones."

"Do you still really, really like her?" FDR pressed.

"And what if I do?" Tuck said, looking annoyed. "You're - what? Going to bow out? Bit late for that, isn't it?"

"We could work something out."

"What, like a timeshare?" Tuck asked. "You want us to timeshare a girlfriend?"

_Yes. That's exactly what I want._

Tuck stared at him, his expression somewhere in between annoyed and exasperated. FDR stared back.

"You want us to timeshare a girlfriend," Tuck said. "Bloody hell."

(Afterwards, they could never quite agree on who'd reached for whom first.)

 

_epilogue_

Nana took it better than he'd expected.

"I always did think you were too much for any one person to handle," she said.

 _Thank you, Nana._ "Well, so are Lauren and I," Tuck said. "Aren't we, Lauren?"

"Oh, nonsense," Nana said. "I was just joking. The three of you are all such nice people. Perfect for one another - and I'm not kidding when I say I've been expecting something like this for a very long time."

"Thank you, Nana." _I think._

"Did take you quite a while to figure it out, mind," she said, and then, turning to Tuck: "Me, I knew the first time he brought you home." To Lauren: "And then you."

"And now both of us together at the same time," Tuck said, raising his glass.


End file.
